


"Are you fucking insane?"

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: Sherlollicious [37]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Mario Kart, Molly is Maaaaad, Rosie is a cutie, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: Sherlock challenges Molly to a game of Mario Kart.





	"Are you fucking insane?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mychakk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychakk/gifts).



> @mychakk on tumblr requested this from a list and I couldn't resist :)

Molly fiddled with the hem of her ‘business skirt’, glancing up at the door in front of her leading to Mike’s office. She’d been invited to attend a meeting regarding the opportunity to study and teach pathology to eager students, which meant transferring to another location for the better part of half a year, somewhere up in Scotland, she’d heard. Molly had accepted immediately, deciding to worry about telling her friends later. Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary and Greg would be accepting and supportive, of that she was certain. She’d Skype Rosie and send her gifts and her mother could take Toby. That just left Sherlock…

The thought alone of telling him gave her a headache; she could already hear his excuses, how he needed her at Bart’s because none of the other pathologists were as lenient with body parts. Tough. He’d just have to cope. Molly quickly glanced at her watch, nervous excitement beginning to ripple through her stomach. That was when her phone buzzed.

**URGENT. BAKER STREET. NOW**

Molly blinked at her phone, wondering for the briefest moment if she should just drop everything and run to 221B.After all, the last time this happened, several police helicopters had followed Greg only to find out the consulting dick was stuck with his best man speech. Just as she’d decided to ignore it, another message came through.

 **PLEASE**. **I NEED YOU MOLLY**

“Ah, Doctor Hooper,” Mike appeared at his door, then, flanked by a member of the Hospital board. He looked as nervous as she felt as he adjusted his tie and smiled forcefully, “we’re ready when you are.”

Molly swallowed – she hated letting Mike down but if anyone could understand her situation it would be her kind-hearted boss. “Err, thank you, but there’s been a change of plan. I’m terribly sorry to put you out, sir,” she addressed the chairman and smiled apologetically, “something has come up and I must leave. Thank you for the opportunity-“

“I’m sure we can reschedule,” Mike cut in, waving off her concerns with a light-hearted chuckle; the chairman didn’t look at all happy at this but didn’t say anything more. From the way he kept checking his watch, Molly could tell he didn’t want to be there anymore than Mike did, “I hope it’s not too serious. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Molly didn’t stick around for an earful from the chairman and instead set off for a cab, shrugging on her jacket as she walked. She managed to hail a cab on her second attempt and gave the directions for Baker Street; she tapped her fingers against the window frame impatiently, repeatedly checking her phone for new messages, causing several concerned looks from the driver. By the time they’d pulled up outside 221 Baker Street, Molly had driven herself almost mad with thoughts of what could be going on inside. She handed over the money and hurtled out of the cab without waiting for her change; she found the door open and her heart leapt to her mouth as she stepped through. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so she hurried upstairs, consequences be damned, and threw open the door.

He wasn’t injured.

Or dying.

Or high off his tits.

Oh, no. The great consulting detective and certified git, Sherlock Holmes, was sitting in front of his TV dramatically wielding a toy steering wheel (from the Wii console, she recognised) and throwing his body left and right every now and then; it looked as though he hadn’t moved for hours, maybe even days. Cups of coffee littered the coffee table and plates of half-eaten sandwiches covered the floor. He was wearing his traditional -day off- clothes: dressing gown, old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He didn’t seem to notice her at first, instead swearing frantically when a blue shell struck his vehicle.

Of all the possibilities and hellish scenarios Molly considered on the way over, finding the Sherlock Holmes engrossed in an energetic game of Mario Kart was not one of them. Suddenly, Molly felt furious.

“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?”

“Molly,” he said without looking at her, too busy focusing on his game, “glad you made it. There’s a spare controller-“

With her hands on her hips, Molly deliberately stepped in his way, “please tell me you did not summon me here to play a stupid game, Sherlock Holmes!”

“Of course not,” he replied distractedly, craning his neck to see past her, “you weren’t busy, were you?”

Molly hesitated, “no, of course not.”

She could tell he was looking over her appearance out of the corner of her eye, lingering on her pencil skirt and loose-fitting top. She felt a smug satisfaction when she heard him swear under his breath as his racer struck the wall as a result of his staring. Moments later, the race ended with the detective placing third much to his annoyance. Peering at the screen, Molly could see why and she couldn’t help but smile; Rosie’s initials dominated the leader board until the very bottom where WSH was visible.

“Something funny, Molly?”

“No,” she said, hiding her smirk behind her hand; it never took very long for him to somehow make her forget she was pissed at him. Didn’t help that she was still stupidly in love with him, really. Still, his eagerness to best his six-year-old niece was rather amusing. She cleared her throat in an attempt to stop her laughter, “just…something I heard at work, that’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her, “you think you’re better than me.”

“Well, come on, it’s not hard. If a six-year-old can do it…” she said, a hint of a challenge in her tone; their eyes met and lingered. After what felt like hours, Sherlock nodded.

“Fancy a game?”

“No, I…just came to check on you,” Molly shook her head quickly, reality catching up to her. She was mad at him, wasn’t she? She set about gathering the coffee cups and plates, “I mean, I thought you were dying you sod!”

“It was the most effective way of getting you here,” Sherlock stated matter-of-factly, shrugging casually as he set up a new two-player game, “just one game. Mary and Rosie are coming to collect it later,” he glanced at her, watching her place the dirty items in the sink, “unless that was all talk.”

“Oh, no. I’ll happily kick your arse any day of the week,” Molly declared, returning to his side and whipping off her jacket. She sat herself beside him and took up the spare controller, nudging him playfully, “I have to warn you, though. I’m the reigning champion in my family. My niece got me into it, too.”

He smiled, “we’ll see about that, Molly.”

An hour and six games later, Sherlock rendered completely speechless by the six times over champion Molly Hooper. To her credit, she’d kept her gloating to a minimum, although she’d made a show of adding her name to the leader board, just above his pitiful effort, the letters MEH mocking him. He blamed her for his lack of concentration, her arm constantly brushing his, her hand landing on his knee whenever either of them used a power-up, and generally being around her. Sherlock ruffled his hair, beyond annoyed at the ridiculous game, figuratively and literally. Molly returned from the kitchen with two coffees, placing one in front of him on the coffee table.

“Feeling better?”

“I still think you cheated!” He murmured, sipping his coffee. Molly rolled her eyes.

“How did I cheat?”

“I never got that star thing once.”

“I’m not having this argument again,” Molly protested, remembering the time she’d received a string of invincible stars, on Rainbow Road no less, whilst he’d been reduced to repeatedly tumbling over the side, cursing as he did. That had been quite amusing. Molly replaced her cup on the table, “this is why no one wants to play games with you.”

He said nothing, preferring to hug his knees as he sulked. After only a few minutes, Molly couldn’t take it anymore and shoved the steering wheel at him, “come on. One more game.”

“No.” Dear Lord, he was actually pouting. Molly gritted her teeth.

“Choose your bloody character.”

Sighing, he settled for Toad, as usual – ‘…small stature is ideal, makes him light and agile, more aerodynamic, statistically speaking…’ – whilst she picked Yoshi simply because he was her favourite. Halfway through the race, a race Molly was determined to lose, she peered out of the corner of her eye at Sherlock; he was really cute when he was concentrating, his tongue peeking out from between his lips and his hands running through his hair in frustration.

“I was going for a meeting…for a chance to leave for six months.”

He shook his head, “nope, it’s not going to work. I’m in the zone.”

“I’m not trying to put you off,” Molly giggled, her race abandoned as she wrung her hands, “I was offered a place in a teaching hospital over in Scotland. They said it could be anything between six months and a year.”

It took a while for Molly to notice his character had also stopped moving, “when do you leave?”

“I don’t. I got your texts before I went in.”

“I’ll fix it…whatever it takes, I’ll do something.”

Molly turned to stare at him in shock, “you’d…do that for me?”

“Of course, it was my fault it was ruined in the first place. As long as you promise to come back, I’ll-“

She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, silencing any further thought from his sweet lips. Sherlock cupped the back of neck tenderly, holding her in their embrace as Molly’s hands landed on his chest. They only broke away when an excited scream ripped through 221B.

“Mummy! They’re kissing! I told you, I told you!”

Sherlock and Molly exchanged shy smiles as Rosie clamoured between them, eager to get her own hugs in. Meanwhile, Mary stood in the doorway frantically texting her husband; hopefully, she’d be planning a wedding within the next year.


End file.
